


The Pain That You Left Me

by Scmsunny



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Parent Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 03:33:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17738213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scmsunny/pseuds/Scmsunny
Summary: Josh grieves after his mother's death.





	The Pain That You Left Me

Josh Crayton held his broken and dying mother's hand. Diane lay there, unconscious, attached to invasive machines, ones that were forcing her to breathe, monitoring her- Josh wasn't sure of the purposes of half of them, really.

But when one of the machines began to play 'Shave and a Haircut' in continuous loops, Josh knew.

His mother was flatlining.

He screamed for a nurse. A janitor came instead, then a barista. Night Vale didn't have actual medical professionals anymore. They stabilized Diane, but only for a moment.

Then 'Shave and a Haircut' started up again- But this time it didn't stop.

His mother was gone.

 

 

 

Josh was running. Then he was flying. And then he was immobile.

There was an emptiness, a void, a black pit that felt as though it would never be filled, felt as though filling it would be impossible. His chest heaved, His heartbeat, his muscles strained against him, perhaps even tried to restrain him.

Brainwaves wouldn't connect, there was magma within his lungs, a tearing at his soul.

He writhed, screamed, tore at his feathers, could not control this, didn't want to control this, _what was the point of control._

And he was at home now, but could he call it home without Diane? What was home without Diane?

The house was cold. Not physically, they lived in a desert. But emotionally, mentally, the house cast a chilling aura, and Josh thought this fitting.

Maybe the house knew. Maybe it was in mourning, perhaps this was its way of grieving.

Or maybe it was just in a cold mood today.

Josh didn't know, didn't care, and he kicked at the walls, shredded the carpet with his talons, because _how dare anything feel anything right now_ , today, _how dare you take this for yourself_.

 

 

 

Josh couldn't get in cars. Not anymore. They closed in on him, choked him. Josh couldn't go home. Not anymore. Everything was a threat, everything was a reminder, and he couldn't. He couldn't think, or feel, or do much of anything.

He mostly slept. On the rare occasions he showed up to school, he would find an empty closet, one free of any mice or platypodes, and curl up, and force sleep.

When he did go somewhere, he would fly. His mother had never allowed this, Not until you're eighteen, She would always say.

But she wasn't here anymore. Besides, it was the one mode of transportation that she had never witnessed or been involved in. There were no memories of mom in the sky.

He quit his job. Or, rather, he quit coming in to work and after several days of not coming in, his employers sent a sentient ventilation system who informed him he was fired.

Which was fine with Josh. This meant he was free to pursue a career in radio, what he felt was his real calling. Diane had always forbidden him to intern at the Night Vale Community Radio Station, always told him it was too dangerous...

But she wasn't here anymore.

So he applied. Just walked in, asked the secretary for the necessary papers- The secretary just stared at him, his deep, wide-set eyes boring holes into Josh.

The staring continued for several hours, during which Josh dared not move. Finally, the secretary spun backward in his wheelie chair, and retrieved the application form, so fast that Josh wouldn't've noticed the movement if not for the loud bang that the papers made when placed into his open hands.

Wasting no time, he sliced open his palm and filled out the papers in his own blood. He signed his name and threw them back to the secretary, who had begun to violently vibrate. Then Josh turned and fled before the secretary could catch him; Secretaries were notorious for trying to capture well-meaning potential job applicants and force them to attend culinary school.

Josh did not want to attend culinary school.

He wandered down the twisted desert roads, past the cacti and the sand wastes. Eventually, he found himself in The Whispering Woods.

It was cold there- not unpleasantly. It was calm. But it was not quiet.

 _Oh, Josh_ , He could hear the trees murmur. _Josh, how are you doing?_

Truthfully?

"Not well," He heard himself say.

 _That's too bad_ , The trees said. _Can we do anything?_

"No. I'm... I'm just... God, I don't even know," Josh bit his lip, tried to keep the tears back. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

The trees shook their branches sadly. _We're sorry, Josh. We know it hurts._

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore," Josh repeated, slowly, softly. "And I'm starting to think that maybe I never will."

The trees didn't know what to say to that. So Josh just left, kept on walking. He found himself at the front door of his house. He hadn't walked home, but he arrived just the same.

He was wearing lavender capris, and two black tulle swatches of cloth that had been elaborately arranged over his horns. Neither of those details matter, nor were they relevant to what was happening.

The lights were on; He had forgotten to turn them off when he had left.

There was dust, inches of it, all across the countertops of the kitchen, the tables, the shelves. There wasn't even a speck of dust on the floors.

Josh packed up his things. He rented an apartment, in which to put those things. And he sold the house.


End file.
